Brilliantly Fantastic
by mynextlife
Summary: She was his, no matter what they all say.


The ping of buttons bouncing off the wall and the floor earned her a growl. "This is my favorite shirt. And it cost a lot of money." He could feel her grin in his neck. In retaliation he bit on her shoulder that was answered by a gasp and then a groan.

She ran her hands across his exposed chest as he began a frantic search for the zipper of her skirt. He would have like to rip it off of her as she had done with the shirt, but she would have halted all activity with her super-will that he thought he had but became nothing when it involved her. Finding her mouth again, he covered it possessively thrusting his tongue in as he found the blasted zipper.

She shimmied out of the skirt while dealing with his buckle, the metal making a rather loud clank as it hit the floor. "Shush. Not everyone needs to hear what we are up to. Why did you choose a room so close to the ballroom?" Instead of an answer she eased his trousers down and then snuck her hand into his pants to grab the throbbing flesh she needed to have, touch, taste.

A strangled groan left his mouth followed by a shudder throughout his entire body. No one could make him come undone like she did, always effortlessly. He slid his hand up her back to unclasp her bra, no fumbling after all these years, five in all. Once that offending piece of undergarment was cast aside, he attached his sinful mouth to one of her breasts, sucking and licking as only he could do.

Her head hit the back of the wall he had pressed her against and her hands went to pull at his properly coifed hair. He growled a bit as she ruffled it while trying to press his head closer to her chest, but spells could easily fix that, thank goodness. She lifted her right leg to grip around his hip, indicating that he should use some of those sexy leg muscles and hold her up. Sex against the wall was always fantastic. And rough. And passionate. And fantastic, because it needed to be said again.

He lifted her other leg and ground into her, probably leaving deep lines in her back from the stone wall. But she enjoyed the sting, and rough. Surprisingly. He wondered what her friends would say if they only knew. He smirked as he licked his way from her sternum to her collarbone, scraping his teeth across the thin flesh over the bone, tempted to bite and create a very vivid and possessive mark. That may have been the reason for this spontaneous broom closet meeting.

Sadly, they were needed back in the ballroom and marks on her collar bone did not cover up as nicely as he would like, something about the proximity of the bone to flesh, not much in between. He was drawn out of his thoughts as she tried to push his pants down with the heels of her feet, only to find his straining erection catching rather painfully on the elastic waistband. Maybe he would go without next time. There would be a next time, as there always was.

"Now!" She seemed rather impatient as he maneuvered around to keep her up against the wall while trying to manhandle his pants down his legs to join his trousers still caught around one foot. "I'm trying, impatient women. I only have two hands and you are not helping." In response, he pushed her harder against the wall, surely adding more scraps and possibly bruises. Rough is alright, right. And passionate. And bloody fantastic. She was going to get even with him later.

As his last act of trying to assert some sort of dominance in this _whatever_ they did at these types of social functions, he ripped her panties off satisfied with the gasp, moan and fierce grip of her legs on his waist. "Now we are even." She bit down on his neck in answer, but smiled knowing that it wasn't really even since the shirt _had_ been rather expensive and she was rather fond of it as well.

"Yes, yes, even. Now, now!" He would have tried to be gentler about entering her but she was definitely ready for him and he could never resist her commanding voice and clear blues eyes while they were making love. Contrary to the present moment, he was usually very gentle, making her come several times before he even thrust in, worshiping every inch of her body, thanking any and every higher being out there that she was his. Willingly!

That was the problem with these social functions. They tried to tear apart the bond that held them together, trying to pull her away from him, always acting in her best interest. Those few friends of his left that had somehow managed to attend these things didn't try pulling them apart, but would still view them skeptically, probably waiting for her to drop him and watch him come crawling back to someone more of their choice. Too bad.

She pulled his hair to have his attention back to her face, eyes blazing with want and need and love, of course love. His eyes shown back with the same intensity, at least that is what she had told him, and of course he believes her. No reason not to.

With another possessive kiss and tongues battling as was their wont, he thrust up, perfect aim (five years, remember). Both let out breathy moans, her head tilted back, his resting on her shoulder. Normally he would wait for confirmation she was ready, but time was of the essence and it was supposed to be rough. And fucking fantastic! Don't forget the passion; they had a truck load of it. Probably some to spare.

Even after all these years, he felt that she might leave him if it wasn't fucking, brilliantly fantastic. And passionate. Not always rough, but that helped as well. She had reassured him after the first year that that was not what kept her by his side, but that she greatly enjoyed it. She enjoyed gentle as well, but that had been hard for him. It required him to be open in a way he was not used to nor had any desire to be before her.

"Fuck, woman!" He began his relentless assault into her, most definitely adding to what was already a highly marked backside. She moaned and dug her manicured fingernails into his back, marking him the best she could in this situation. Just a portion of her payback that he would take willingly.

"Harder, faster." Not one to deny her anything, contrary to what most think of their relationship, he picked up the pace and buried his face in her neck, grunting in his efforts. Denying her had never been an option, not for anything. She had him so tightly wrapped around her finger it should have been painful. Surprisingly, he welcomed it, reveled in it. He hadn't even thought about it until he began planning to ask her to marry him.

"Ah, ah, ah…" That was the cue that she was near, thankfully. He didn't think that he would last much longer, legs suddenly feeling close to jelly and that familiar feeling of heat coiling and wanting release. "Love you." He thought he might not have been loud enough with his face buried in her neck, but a quick tug on his hair let him know she had heard him. Overcoming a severe fear of saying those _three little words_ had been the hardest part of their relationship. But she was patient and knew with certainty she had explained, that he would be able to say it. Now he would say it without hesitation, unless at some stuffy social event with people that didn't care much for him and wanted to protect her.

At home was another matter, he couldn't tell her enough. Actually, he thinks that the only time he had publically declared his love for her was at their wedding. It had been written into their vows - something he thought should be mentioned, not even considering that there would be other people present. It might have been proof enough for some, especially those that had known what it was like to grow up as a Malfoy, pure-blood and Slytherin, all of which were not conducive to open displays of affection or declarations of such.

"Yes!" He could feel her tighten around him as her orgasm rushed over her, making her dig deeper into his back and pull his hair more fiercely. He gave one, two, three more deep thrusts before biting down on her shoulder as his orgasm ripped through him. "Fuck!" That was probably going to leave a mark, but the marks on her shoulder were easier to cover with spells than the collar bone.

He pressed her against the wall, trying not to collapse to the floor in a sweaty heap. Rough, passionate and fuckingly, brilliantly fantastic as usual. Their collective panting was echoing in the small room, making him wonder if they could be heard in the other room, but probably not. He could still hear the slow, sleepy tunes from the hired band and could picture the masses moving around the dance floor in the sad dance steps that had been ingrained in him since he could walk.

It was surely hours later that he felt his cock slide out of her as she lowered her legs to test out if she could hold her own weight. She tilted her head back slightly for the kiss that was required, demanded, at any given moment and was gladly given without a second thought. Demanding was not something he thought her friends knew about her. That was alright with him, though. Something just for him to have.

After the requisite spells were cast to cover the various marks made by humans and inanimate objects (perhaps cushioning charms would be needed), clothing was repaired (not quite as new, but enough) and then pulled on again, the tempting flesh was gone and they may have been ready to return to the ballroom. Lastly, another spell was cast to get rid of the wrinkles and dust clinging to the clothing as well as re-establishing perfect hair. Once he was pleased with the way they looked, because it wouldn't do for people to think anything untoward had happened to her, he decided they should rejoin the party.

"Where did they go? I saw them leave about ten minutes ago. He could be hurting her." He wanted to roll his eyes at the statement. Really, after five years he would have hoped that they could see hurting her was not on his agenda. Even being married, clearly marking each other with rings and the change of her name, for three years had not changed people's opinions of him.

"Ron, please. Give it a rest. He isn't hurting her. They are married, have been together for five. I think we would have seen some evil plan by now, if Malfoy was really planning one." Of course Weasley would be the most upset. Once Granger had dropped him for some Ravenclaw when she returned for her last year at school, Weasley had his sights set on his wife. It had irked the fiery red-head, apparently still did, that his wife was not interested and then proceeded to show everyone who _had_ caught her attention.

He had heard this all before, not taking much stock in the accusations because his wife knew they weren't true and that was all that really mattered to him. Unfortunately for Weasley, his wife appeared to have had enough and he could feel her magic building up, wondering if he should calm her or let everyone know how she felt. When she flung open the door, the decision had apparently been made without his consultation.

"Ron Weasley, how dare you?" Ron's blue eyes nearly popped out of his head when a rather irate Luna Lovegood, because it couldn't really be Malfoy now, opened the door to a small broom closet with her husband standing behind her. Harry Potter had been the one trying to make Weasley see reason, but now stepped away, clearly aware of what Luna was capable of and wanting to avoid being lumped in with what was coming Ron's way.

"L-L-Luna!" The stuttering didn't help his cause as she offered a Malfoy worthy smirk at his fear. Weasley seemed to gather himself in the momentary silence and began plowing forward with his misguided attempt to save her. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Draco nearly laughed at the last question knowing it was entirely possible that she might be hurt and in some sort of pain from their activities. He was certainly feeling the after effects.

"Ron, I was with my husband. I am perfectly safe. Stop this useless worrying and thinking that Draco is plotting to hurt me. You seem to be the last one to get the idea that we are in love and happy. Just stop!" Draco fairly preened behind his wife at her declaration of their life, but his Malfoy mask remained in place, much to her disappointment, as it was something ingrained in him. Remember Malfoy, pure-blood and Slytherin and no emotions allowed to bubble to the surface. Weakness. Ha! Well, Weasley and Potter didn't need to know that he was perfectly capable of showing emotions to those that mattered.

Weasley was going to dig himself further into a hole by the look he was giving them. "But you were in a broom closet. That can't be safe." Potter ran his hand over his face and shook his head, clearly well aware of what went on in the closet. Draco wondered if Weasley had not gotten laid in several years if he couldn't image what would go on between two consenting adults in a closet. He almost smirked.

"We were having sex, Ron." Potter covered his mouth to hide his laughter and blushed furiously while Draco was sure a small amount of color was staining his face no matter how strong his will was. Weasley on the other hand was gaping and giving them all a lovely view of the back of his mouth. Disgusting.

The moment of stunned silence lasted probably all of three seconds before Luna began speaking again. "Ron, why can't you move on? It wasn't going to happen before I met Draco and it certainly won't happen now. Find someone else. Please." Weasley looked like he wanted to say something more, but because Potter had become more adept at diffusing awkward social situations in the past five years, he clapped Ron the shoulder and turned him around. "Ron. Stop. Move on. Let me introduce you to one of the ladies that Ginny plays with. Luna and Malfoy are perfectly fine. It's a done deal."

Weasley still looked like he wanted to protest something about their union, but Harry pulled him away from them with a nod. "Luna, Draco." Luna gave an exasperated sigh and nod, but smiled at him for his thoughtfulness. Draco merely nodded because anything else would be drifting into friendly territory and they weren't there yet. Luna would probably like that someday but that day wasn't today.

Luna finally turned, once the interlopers were well out of sight, and buried her head in his shoulder. "I love you. I want to go home. Is that possible?" Again, nothing could be denied her, but Draco checked his watch to make sure that they had been in attendance the required amount of time. "I think it will be fine. We should say a few goodbyes. Are you ready?"

Luna nodded and then looped her arm through his, pulling him closer with every step that they took into the ballroom. They were treated to a round of glaring from Weasley, but at least Potter and his wife, the _other_ Weasley, nodded peacefully to them while trying to explain everything again to Weasley.

Draco led Luna to the exit, making sure her coat was properly covering her and protecting her from the night air. She gave him a mock glare, but he wouldn't be deterred from his mission of protecting her and the three month old fetus growing in her. They were his everything. Wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close for apparition, Draco couldn't help but smirk at the world at large because despite its desire to keep him from happiness it seems that Luna's will to have what she wants was stronger. He was just glad he was what she wanted.


End file.
